Damsel
by Artemis Day
Summary: Loki of Asgard is bored, which is probably why a visit to the mundane kingdom of Midgard felt like a good idea. Jane of Midgard is having a bad day, which is mostly because she just got kidnapped by insurgents, and she's going to miss her science lessons. Naturally, an encounter is inevitable.


**A/N: This was written for burdened_with_glorious_cheekbones for the StarFrost exchange on AO3 (I was a pinch-hitter).**

* * *

They say there is no better place to be on a warm Summer afternoon than the kingdom of Midgard.

And why not? It's a quaint little seaside nation, tucked away like an afterthought on a peninsula connected to a land great enough to fit a hundred nations Midgard's size and still have room for more. The keen faced tutor who had made up the bulk of Loki's early education used to love to prattle on about her home country: the cool ocean breezes that wafted through on sticky summer nights, the luscious greenery that came alive after long winters and brought forth bountiful harvests, the friendly citizens who greeted you warmly on the street, the modernized society and progressivism that gave the average man more than he could ever dream of having.

Sometimes, Loki remembered that tutor and the hopeless, dreamy way she'd carried herself. She was the kind of person who saw everything though a romantic lens. Loki needed only an hour on the streets of Midgard to know it for a fact.

It was a humid day in July that he decided to leave his home for a short excursion to a foreign land. Midgard had been chosen out of boredom, and because out of all the many kingdoms surrounding Asgard, it was the one he was least familiar with. Their people had dealings in trade with Midgard, mostly relating to fish and other sea fare. Aside from that, the nations were as socially isolated from each other as if to exist on different planets. Where Asgard was a place of wealth and power and beauty, Midgard was a humble land. The beauty his teacher spoke of amounted to a series of gardens and forested areas that were virtually identical (if smaller) to that which was found in Asgard, and in the neighboring nation of Vanahiem, and Alfeim, and everywhere else Loki had ever been to. Walking through the streets in his simple peasant clothes, he wasn't spared a second glance from anyone. The only one to address him so far was a street peddler selling bags of apples for twice as much as they could be bought in Asgard. Loki's pocket, weighted down by jangling gold coins, was no lighter than it had been when he departed that morning. He suspected not a single coin would be gone by the time he got back.

Not that he was here for a shopping trip. Anything Loki could've ever wanted his servants would have for him at once. Barring that, there were very few things he could not conjure up by himself. Such was the benefit of an upbringing under the care of a sorceress, who saw in a foundling child all the potential for magic that her blood born son lacked. It was one of the few things Loki could hold over his brother, that he was the one who best understood their mother. While he was studying with her, Thor was busy learning how to hit things harder, having not a care for much else in the world.

'And yet he's the one who will inherit the throne someday,' Loki bitterly thought. 'Simply by virtue of being a blood heir.'

Loki grimaced. That sort of thinking brought him nothing but impotent rage and misery. At times like this, it was best to turn to find some kind of distraction.

That came about in front of a city bank, where people in peasant clothes had gathered to scream and throw rocks at the windows and the nobility as they entered and exited with their fattened wallets and diamond jewelry. From the sounds of their shouting, the peasants were protesting some newly implemented tax law and demanding reparations for all the money and land that they'd lost. Loki watched them for a time, not really caring to think on what kind of law King Erik I's advisors had put out in his name this time. He almost pitied the old man, facing such vitriol for something that more than likely wasn't even his fault. It was his father who had come up with the idea of letting the common man have a hand in ruling and created a cabinet full of men and women without royal or noble blood to act as his advisors. How was Erik supposed to know his own chosen dignitaries would be so two-faced and corrupt? That was the double edge sword of change.

When the novelty of angry dirty people throwing rocks around wore off, Loki started for the docks. If he could sanction a ship, maybe he could take a spin around the beach and give himself something to do. The wind in his face would be good for clearing his minds. Mother had always said, a tired body and muddled thoughts do not a successful spellcaster make.

At the edge of the curb, a body clothed in brown slammed into his side, and sent the both of them toppling to the ground. Loki grunted at stab of pain in his lower back as he made contact with the ground, but the weight on top of him wasn't as heavy as at first glance. It wriggled away from him, harsh, panting breaths emitting from the shadowed hood. Through its struggling and sputtered apologies, Loki became tired of waiting and picked himself up, leaving the other person to roll back onto the ground, picking up dirt as they went. The cloak was riding up, revealing the hem of a plain brown dress and skinned bare feet.

"You should really look where you're going next time," Loki spat out. "You're lucky I'm in a fair mood today, or you would know what it means to be sorry."

"I'm sorry!" the woman said, as if Loki's threats had been nothing to her but air. He would've loved to move on and forget all about the foolish beggar. The docks where just in sight and she'd surely find someone else to throw a penny at her feet. He moved around her, stopping midstep when the cloak got snagged under her foot. It ripped the hood from her head-

Revealing the most beautiful brown eyes Loki had ever seen in his life.

* * *

When Jane looked back hours later on how her morning began, she would conclude that she should have stayed in bed, and damn the consequences. Lethargy had hit the moment consciousness did, and much as she would've loved to pin the blame solely on the governess rapping at her door and rousing her from a delightful dream about walking among the stars, in the back of Jane's mind was that niggling sense that she'd brought it upon herself.

It was, after all, her idea to sneak out of the castle after dark to go star-gazing on the hill. It had been her star charts that predicted the passing of a comet over that area for the only night in centuries. It had been her own miscalculation that led her to wait until the crack of dawn for a shooting star that never appeared. If she'd only given up sooner and gone home, this wouldn't have happened. She was just too stubborn sometimes. She was mature enough to admit it. (Lord only knew she heard it from the servants and the governess and Uncle Erik alike on a daily basis.)

But maybe she shouldn't totally blame herself. She was just an amateur after all with little formal training. Her science lessons, while extensive, kept her grounded to earth when she wished to see the stars. Uncle Erik always said that he'd allow her those lessons once she finished the more basic ones, and while Jane had no reason not to trust his word (he was passionate about the stars himself) that didn't make the wait any less tedious.

To compensate, she raided the castle library for all the books on astrophysics she could find. When she had finished those, she took trips to the library in disguise to get more. She created experiments of her own, she cobbled together a telescope that was just starting to work. She snuck out on a regular basis to watch the stars and find constellations, and stayed out until the sun peaked over the horizon.

That was why, when the good governess, with her wide frog mouth and her bony knuckles wrapped around a wooden ruler, came knocking at the door, Jane should have just rolled onto her stomach and played sick for a day. Maybe then, she wouldn't have dozed off in her ham and eggs at breakfast and embarrassed herself in front of that visiting dignitary from the kingdom of Nornhiem. She might not have made that serious misstep in her mid-morning dance lesson and crushed the instructor's toe with her heel. She might have spent the afternoon learning about weather patterns, instead of going back to her chambers to read and watch the clouds roll by.

She certainly would not have been delivered lunch by an unannounced maid she didn't recognize, who stood back and watched as Jane took a drink from the wine goblet and suddenly became very dizzy.

She would not have woken up in the back of a hay filled caravan with her hands tied behind her back and a gag over her mouth.

In the darkened space with thick curtains covering the windows, Jane had only tiny beads of light that snuck in through the gaps to light her way. From that alone, she knew the sun was out. It was either not long after she'd been taken, or a whole day since. Neither option sounded great, but if it was the former, than at least there was a chance she was still close enough to the castle to be found by one of Uncle Erik's men. They had to know she was missing by now, right?

Jane closed her eyes and tried to remember Uncle Erik's schedule for the day. Being the King, he was usually busy with one or more meeting with councilmen and foreign diplomats. Sometimes, he made public addresses to the people, but there hadn't been as many of those since the very vocally negative reaction to that new tax law the council had imposed.

It created a stab of rage in Jane, the thought of all those uniformed citizens cursing her kind-hearted Uncle for something that wasn't even his fault. He hadn't wanted the tax bill to go into law any more than they did. These people had no idea whatsoever how the Midgardian kingdom's government worked. Maybe other places like Asgard still had absolute Monarchy, but times were changing in Midgard. Around here, being a king didn't make you a god anymore.

It came to Jane with a sinking heart that Erik was not in Midgard today. He'd decided to personally escort that Vanahiem dignitary back home with a large fleet of his men. They weren't bound to return for at least two nights. By then, Jane could already be…

The caravan slowed to a halt, breaking Jane from her thoughts. A door flew open, and Jane screamed into her gag as natural light burned her eyes. She shrank away from it, only for the newcomer to stomp inside and wrench her onto her feet.

"Don't cry, your highness," the man cooed at her. "It's not becoming of a royal on her first ever address to the people."

He threw her back to the ground, making Jane wonder why he'd bothered to pick her up in the first place. A flash of light as he removed something from his pocket made Jane's stomach clench. She tried to inhale, but the gag held her back. She writhed with her restraints, unable to find a single catch in the thick rope that bound her. The man forced her to her knees and bent her so that her face was touching the floor. The knife's blade brushed her wrist by the veins, but as the seconds rolled by and no pain came to her, Jane found that whatever the man was sawing through wasn't a part of her body.

The ropes fell away, and Jane was free to examine her wrists and the angry red marks wrapped around them like snakes. Jane rubbed at the raw flesh until the stinging became too much. The man threw a burlap sack at her feet and walked back outside, the knife's blade still pointed in her direction.

"Put those on," he commanded. "If you're not dressed by the time I come back, there'll be hell to pay."

He left her alone in the darkness, and Jane was careful moving around the sack to get to the windows and let some light it. She could see a pile of brown and green clothes spilling out of the sack. Her eyes lingered on the door every way she turned, as if she could feel him standing outside, with his hand on the knob.

It took Jane just a few minutes to shed her beautiful blue gown and don the frumpy, scratchy miller girl dress. That it fit her so well made her nauseous. The man returned as she was trying to get the shoes on. He took no heed of this and dragged her barefoot into the light.

They were in the countryside, on a patch of grassy land Jane didn't recognize. A small village was off to the left through a thicket, maybe a quarter of a mile from where they had stopped off. The ground was covered in dirt and sharp rocks, as Jane was quick to discover when her naked feet made contact with the ground. She bit back a cry of pain when she felt something dig into her heel. Tiny droplets of blood trailed after them as the man led her to the front of the carriage, where that woman, still in her maid outfit, was feeding the horses.

"Our guest of honor is awake!" shouted the man.

The woman glanced up. Upon catching sight of Jane, she unleashed a grin that could melt the flesh off a man's bones. Though Jane tried not to flinch before her captor, it was very hard in the face of something like that, so devoid of compassion and mercy.

"Well, look at you," the woman said, ambling over with her hands on her hips. She was sizing Jane up, and Jane didn't fail to notice how much greater in height this woman was to her. "You look like a regular little peasant girl, don't you? Stuck on the bottom rung with no way up. Down on your knees to be kicked into the mud. That's where all you royals belong. You all need to know how it feels."

Her nails ran across Jane's face and through her mussed up hair, pushing it out of her face. Jane slapped her hand away, purely on reflex. The woman gasped and pulled back, her shock matching Jane's own as she came to realize what she'd just done, and what it might cost her.

The woman shook her head, fuming with rage the likes of which had even her partner backing away.

"Oh, you're a feisty one," the woman hissed. "That's fine. I'll find a way to wring it out of you. I think first I'll chop off that hair of yours, seeing as you seem to like it so much."

The man jerked Jane away, leaving her to stew on the image of herself baldheaded, the woman behind her with her devil grin and a knife poised just over Jane's temple. Jane had never been all that vain or conscious of her appearance, but as she was brought back to her prison cell with her head hanging low, her long brown tresses fell before her eyes, which were welling up with tears.

She tripped up getting back into the caravan. Her foot slipped off the step and she fell, landing on hands which would surely have several splinters from this. Catching her breath proved impossible with the man standing over her. He growled and drove the tip of his boot into Jane's stomach, winding her.

"Get up, you pampered little flea. Do something for yourself for once."

Jane's hands reached around, and something stuck out of the ground as her palm slid over it. Her fingers closed around it long before she registered the smooth and slender shape or the pointy top edge that bit into the skin of her thumb when she pressed down. A sort of calm had come over her. It ate away at the fear and numbed all the pain in her body. She started to right herself, lifting first her head, then her torso, and finally her legs, which felt as strong as a champion runner's.

"Alright, I will."

She whipped all the way around drawing upon strength she never knew she had. Though the stone was not as sharp as his blade, it drew a line of red across the man's cheeks and upper lip. He screamed and clawed at his face, something that would only make his condition worse, but Jane hardly cared about that. She was already in the wind, soaring through the trees towards the town while screams of agony and rage carried after her, but never touched her.

The cloak she'd been fitted with whipped through the air, the hood flipping up and down before settling far over her head. Jane had no thoughts of removing it, even as her vision was obstructed. She thought of nothing except putting one foot in front of the other and getting into that village now. Now!

She did so with flourish, zooming past men wheeling carts and women carrying baskets of bread. Some of them stopped to stare, but no one ever tried to stop her. Jane ran until she could run no longer, a point which came with a bang instead of a sputter. Whatever she'd run into, she took to the ground with her. It was long and hard and warm like a person.

In fact, it was a person.

Not a happy one either.

"I'm sorry," Jane all but yelled in their face. She couldn't make out any features yet, though her clawing hands on the person's chest and stomach spoke of a muscled, masculine form. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

She spoke those words again and again, long after they'd lost all meaning and the adrenaline rush that had kept her going all this time collapsed, leaving her a terrified, sobbing wreck curled up into herself on top of a complete stranger's body. The man grew tired of waiting on her to move and pushed her off, drawing himself to full height and glaring down at her.

"You should really look where you're going next time. You're lucky I'm in a fair mood today, or you would know what it means to be sorry."

"I'm sorry," Jane cried back for the final time.

The hood of the cloak was slipping off, dropping to her back to reveal her face. Without it to block her view, she could see him now, all pitch black hair and sharp green eyes and angular facial features, and a countenance that spoke of pure power and dominance. He reminded her of those foreign Princes and Dukes who came to court her acting like they were masters of the universes who she should be in total awe of. Jane never was (she was usually too busy rolling her eyes), but real or not, none of them ever came close to pulling it off the way this man did.

He was literally the most handsome man Jane had ever seen.

His anger lasted a split second longer, and then melted into something Jane couldn't interpret. He said nothing as Jane clutched her chest and her pounding her, waited for her to collect herself before bringing a thoughtful hand to his chin, his stance relaxed.

"My lady, I do believe you are in trouble."

His words were a light to a fuse. New energy flowed through Jane, and she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down. The fabric ripped open in her grip; the material had to be extremely cheap. She'd buy him a cloak spun from pure gold when this was over if he'd only stay with her now.

"Please, help me!" Jane cried, pointing at the distant forest. "I'm the princess of this kingdom. I've been kidnapped!"

"How did they manage to get to you? Don't you have guards?"

"I don't know! Maybe they're corrupt- that's not that point! There's a man and a woman back there that are going to kill me if they find me again. Please, if you help me, I promise I will give you anything you want. Riches, jewelry, a castle of your own, anything!"

At the end of her speech, Jane's throat hurt, from the crying and the gagging and the running and just everything. It would be torn to pieces if she had to do it all again, so if this man didn't believe her story, or if he ignored her pleas left her in this unknown place alone…

He hummed and rubbed his chin.

"You make a very tempting offer, Princess," said the man, with a smile so chilling that Jane didn't know why she'd ever feared that woman. "Sadly for you, I already have all the riches I could ever need, and more.

Jane could've broken down crying again out of frustration. Or she could have released her misplaced aggression on his stupid, smarmy face until he cried. Or she could have done both. He didn't give her a chance to make up her mind. He took her by the hand, with long white fingers running across her knuckles to soothe her.

"Of course, I could never on principle deny so lovely a face, so what do you say, Princess? Let's wait for your new friends together."

* * *

Loki didn't need to ask what the kidnappers looked like. They were quite obvious when they arrived, both in their skulking about with obvious malicious intent, and in Princess Jane at his back, tensing up at the sight of them. The man was a giant of a fellow, his size and girth would put Volstagg to shame. The woman, by contrast, was small and willowy, but not even the façade of a demure young maid could hide the darkness that lurked within her. It was something Loki knew only too well. Watching them seek Jane out for whatever vicious purpose they had planned was like watching a hungry wildcat stalking a herd of antelope for dinner.

"They're coming over," Jane whispered.

Loki patted the hand that rested on his arm. "Remain calm, and we shall be fine."

Jane nodded, and like a true royal she held her head high from then on. Not a hint of fear passed through those eyes, even when the woman caught sight of them from across the street and stalked over with her partner on her tail.

"That's really cute of you, running away like that," the woman snarled. She grabbed Loki's arm, shrunken down like the rest of him into Jane's petite form. The real Jane stood back, a cloak of invisibility allowed her to watch the proceedings safely, and wait for Loki to call on her to end all of this when he was ready.

"It'll be slow going for you now, little princess," said the man, whom up close, Loki could see was bleeding from a massive wound on his face. Loki felt a rush of approval for Jane. She was even more impressive than he thought.

"I'm very sorry," Loki said in his best impression of meekness and submissive terror. "Please don't hurt me. I promise I won't run away again. Won't you please have mercy on me?"

The real Jane was giving him a very dry, flat look that Loki couldn't linger on for long, lest he burst out laughing in the kidnapper's face.

'If I'm going to play the damsel, I have to be convincing don't I?' he asked Jane in his head.

"Mercy?" The woman's nails dug into Loki's skin, hard enough to have caused great pain for anyone else. "You speak of mercy when your kind has shone mine nothing but scorn for generations? You ask me to spare your life when your pig of an uncle has slaughtered thousands in meaningless wars with more powerful nations and then has the gall to demand more tax money from us when we already have nothing? And after all that, you truly think you are deserving of the life you have? Of my pity? Don't make me laugh."

She shoved Loki, expecting him to fall at her feet so she could take his head now while they were in town. She would probably parade it for all the people to see, that one more member of the corrupt ruling class had fallen. That this was a young child who as of yet had nothing to do with the political proceedings of her kingdom didn't seem to matter to her in the long run, nor to her boorish partner. He was practically foaming at the mouth for a chance to spill some of Jane's blood. That mark of his was for sure going to scar, so why not give the little princess a few of her own?

An eye for an eye, right?

Loki's mouth twitched at the corners.

"I have to say, I understand the source of your anger." He took the woman's hand and pushed it gently back to her person. "You both have suffered under this new law, or perhaps you lost a beloved friend in one of those wars you spoke of."

He watched their faces crack. Determination made way for confusion, even as their lust for royal blood continued to crash over them all like an ocean's wave. Loki could fix that.

"Unfortunately, you seem to have a colored view of how things are governed in this nation. Many of those wars were not sanctioned by his Majesty the King, at least not without much pushing from those more cunning than the good King Erik. He is also not the one behind this tax law everyone is so wound up over, so taking your grievances out on his niece, regardless of how intimately connected she is to the system you two so despise seems like a step away from your goal, and just the fact that you would kill an innocent women for your own benefit doesn't cast you in the most positive light, I'm sorry to say."

"Do you really thing we care one bit about what you think about us?" shouted the woman after an elongated pause in which she and her partner sat in stunned silence, trying to process what they were hearing.

"You care enough to be offended by my words," said Loki, his true voice now layered with Jane's. "As a royal myself, I take great offense at your actions towards a young lady who has done you no harm." He let the shape-changing spell fall off of him piece by piece, starting with the eyes. The truth was he never had to play this game with them to start with, but getting to scare the life out of repugnant people like this just made his day. "And as Princess Jane's chosen protector, it is I who can show you no mercy."

The woman had quick reflexes, he'd give her that. She had out a knife and was ready to pounce by the time Loki's magic rendered her and the man immobile. Most people didn't even get that far. Frozen in time with respective looks of fury and terror, they were an audience to Loki's return to his proper form, and the real Jane rising from the shadows to come and observe her would-be killers from a safe vantage point. They were fortunate to have chosen a less-than-crowded street for this confrontation. Any townspeople who had been hanging around left long ago upon realizing that a sorcerer was in their midst and that he wasn't here to entertain them with tricks.

"So, your highness," Loki said, grinning at Jane, "ho shall these two miscreants be dealt with? If it is your will, I am prepared to give out the ultimate punishment.

A freezing spell of this caliber left room only for eye movement, and Loki could see in his captive's eyes their lives flashing. Their open mouths appeared to emit silent, pleading screams. The kind they would have denied Jane.

Her hands clenched into fists, her mouth a hard line as she approached them. There was no reason to hide anymore. They were as harmless now as the shadowed monster in the corner that became a potted planet when the sun came up. Jane stared at them for a good, long time, and though it caused them great strain in these positions, they stared right back.

She turned to Loki.

"I don't want you to kill them," she said. "I just want them put somewhere where they can't hurt anyone, and where they can make up for their crimes."

It was the answer he had expected, if not the one he wanted. So many spells he'd been working on would've been perfect right now. There was the bottomless pit enchantment, the living shadow spell, that one nameless spell that caused the victim to believe maggots were feasting on their flesh and scratch themselves bloody trying to remove them. He could even take Jane's words literally and send them to place where all would one day have to atone for their sins. The little he knew of the Midgardian princess told him she wasn't the type to condone such measures. It was a sad fact, but still a single con that was far outweighed by the growing number of pros.

"As you wish," he said softly, so only she would hear. Then he addressed the prisoners. "Alright, on behalf of Princess Jane of Midgard, I, Prince Loki of Asgard, sentence you-" he pointed at the man, "-to the deepest mines of Asgard, and you-" he pointed at the woman, "-to a life of work with the laundry maids of Vanaheim. So it has been decreed, so it shall be. May the God of your people forgive you your sins."

Loki snapped his fingers. The two of them vanished, their destinations as far apart from each other as he could conceive of. The heads of the mines and the laundresses would recognize the signature of his magic when they arrived. These would not be the first new workers he had sent their way.

The princess let out a breath when they were gone, and Loki thought she might faint from exhaustion until she came to his side with her lovely eyes as clear as day.

"Can you really do all of that?" she asked in awe.

Loki chuckled. "There are a great many things I can do, Princess."

He offered her an arm, which she took after a moment's hesitation. She furrowed her brow as his magic surged at the ground beneath her feet. Sensible shoes covered them when she looked down, and Loki accepted her grateful smile and the light way she squeezed his hand in thanks.

They walked up the block towards the main street, where they were most assured to find someone who could direct them to the castle of King Erik. Meanwhile, conversation between them had screeched to a halt, and Loki thought for the first time that in the short time that they'd known each other, they hadn't had anything to talk about. They'd been too busy thwarting her kidnapping for chit chat. That would have to change very soon.

"I'm sorry for running into you before," Jane said, looking down. "Literally running into you, I mean."

"You shouldn't apologize for that," Loki said with complete sincerity. "You're quite lucky it was me you chose for your protector. Otherwise, you might not be alive right now, and more importantly, I'd still be bored."

She gave him the same kind of incredulous look his and Thor's old playmate, Sif, used to give him when he was being 'impossible' as she called it. He liked it a bit better on Jane's face.

"Well, if I'd known that you were a prince…" she trailed off, the sentence going unfinished as she seemed to realize there was no way to finish it without glaring falsehood. If she had known he was a prince, she would have done nothing different except perhaps to offer to strengthen foreign relations between Asgard and Midgrad once she came into power, or maybe even her own hand in marriage if she was desperate enough.

"If you wish to repay me, you could grow into a stronger ruler than your uncle is," said Loki. "It shouldn't be a stretch. You already have more of a backbone than him."

"Don't talk that way about my Uncle! He's a great king."

"He is a good man," Loki conceded, "but he needs to take charge if he wants to be an effective ruler, and stop letting those jackals he calls advisors intimidate him. You'd do well to learn from his mistakes."

"Who says I'm even going to be Queen?" asked Jane with a wisp of a smile. "I'm not royalty by blood. I'm just Uncle Erik's ward. If he had any heirs of his own, no one would even think to call me princess."

"But he does have no heirs," Loki said, leaning in a little more. "No one except you."

"It's not the same thing," Jane said, looking away.

The pair found a bustling square in the center of the village, where a fat, jolly old baker was only too happy to put the two 'travelers' on the path back to the main city. They purchased from her two loaves of fresh bread before departing. Jane was famished from her ordeal, and the bread was so warm and moist that Loki felt hungrier after just one bite.

At the edge of the city was a long stretch of country road that would lead them straight to Jane's home. The tall trees with their grasping branches and the growth of flowers that gave the place light and color seemed all the more alive and vibrant to Loki now, a perfect backdrop for the princess at his side. Perhaps there really was more to Midgard than he had first suspected.

"Shall we take the scenic route?" he asked of his companion. "I'd like to familiarize myself with the area. I think I'm going to be seeing quite a lot of it from now on."


End file.
